Revenge of the Red Club

by Kim Harrington

  Miss Nancy just rolled her eyes, like come on.

  A laugh bubbled up and out of me. But I didn’t worry that she’d turn me into Principal Pickford or anything. And I hadn’t really confessed, unless a laugh counted.

  “Just be careful,” she added. “You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube.”

  Confused, I asked. “What does that mean?”

  “Nancy!” Principal Pickford’s voice boomed from the office. “Where’s Nancy?”

  She pushed herself off the wall and gave me one last glance. “You set them free. They’re not going to go back now.”

  I didn’t understand her warning. That sounded fine to me. Freedom was the goal. I didn’t want things to ever go back. It wasn’t like the girls were going to go crazy and push things too far.

  Stella and Camille danced past me and out the double doors, having a sword fight with their tampons.

  An eruption of laughter came from a crowd of boys as one of them—pretty impressively—juggled three super-absorption jumbos.

  A group of sixth graders squealed and screamed as they dashed toward the bus, tossing a tampon back and forth in a game of hot potato.

  Paige waved as she moved past me, holding a giant mobile made of tampons. “Check out the craft I made in art class!”

  I swallowed hard. Yeah, this was fine.

  My bus pulled up, and I grabbed the first available seat and stared out the window, collecting my thoughts. The theme of day one had been “no more hiding—tampons, tampons everywhere.” I’d say it had been a huge success. Especially considering how nervous I’d been in the morning. But the girls had been totally brave.

  That courage had to continue for day two’s plan tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 20

  MY MORNING ROUTINE WAS PRETTY simple. I ran some anti-frizz serum through my hair to tame my waves. Then I put on a little bit of makeup—some mascara and eyeliner to make my eyes pop, and lip gloss to give my face some color. My mom had once told me I looked like a member of the undead without lip color, and while I thought that was a mild exaggeration, she did have a point. “Deathly pale” was my face’s standard look.

  Wednesday morning, I put no product in my hair. I didn’t apply any makeup. And I chose a pair of old, baggy jeans and a big flannel shirt from the back of my closet.

  I was ready much earlier than normal and strolled down the stairs, rather than my usual rushing in a blind panic because the bus was coming any second.

  Mom looked up from her laptop at the kitchen table and gasped. “Are you okay? If you’re not feeling well, you can stay home.”

  “I’m fine.” I grabbed the cereal box from the table and filled a bowl.

  Danny chewed through a spoonful, staring at me strangely. “Why are you wearing one of Dad’s shirts?”

  I looked down at the baggy flannel. “This isn’t Dad’s. I just don’t usually wear it to school.”

  “Then why are you wearing it today?” Mom asked, trying her best to hide the judgment in her voice, but I heard it anyway.

  “It’s comfortable,” I said, and shrugged. I really didn’t want to get into the whole “I helped start a feminist movement at school” thing with her yet.

  Dad came galloping into the room, singing at the top of his lungs. He was one of those weird people who woke up overflowing with happy energy. He stopped as he saw me and cast a quizzical look at Mom. She shook her head and mouthed something that looked like moody teenager, but I couldn’t be sure.

  Wednesday’s theme was Natural Day. No hair straightening, no makeup, no transforming ourselves into other people. We come as we are. We love ourselves as we are.

  Easier said than done.

  On the bus, other girls sat low in their seats, their hoodies drawn up over their heads. Others had no idea what was going on because they were natural every day. And then there were the girls who hadn’t participated—their flowing locks and flawless skin looking just as manufactured as ever. Those were the ones I narrowed my eyes at. A movement required total participation. But I was starting to learn that I couldn’t count on everyone.

  I nearly bumped right into Cee as soon as I walked through the main entrance. She had big, thick-rimmed glasses on. They were the pair she used to wear two years ago before she got contacts.

  “I can’t see a thing,” she growled. “This prescription is old, and everything is blurry.”

  “It’s only one day,” I said. “You’ll make it. And we’ll make our point.”

  “Is it just me or is that wall moving?”

  I took her by the elbow. “Let me walk you to homeroom.”

  We were almost there when an arm reached out from the girls’ room and pulled me inside. I yelped, pulling Cee with me. Our kidnapper whirled around, shutting the door behind us and keeping it closed with her body.

  “Hey!” a voice called. “Let me in!”

  “Go away!” Stella screamed. “Find another one!” Her eyes flared with panic. Stella had always been the most confident of all of us, but right now she looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown.

  “Hey,” I said casually. “How’s it going?”

  “How’s it going?” she repeated incredulously. “Look at me and tell me how it’s going!”

  I knew this day would be the hardest on Stella. Cee had an instinct for business, and I had a way with words. But Stella was the queen of makeup, hair, and fashion. And, for the day, that superskill had been stripped from her.

  Cee squinted beneath her thick glasses. “Is that Stella?”

  “Oh! Em! Gee!” Stella practically screamed. “My own friend doesn’t even recognize me!”

  “Cee’s wearing her glasses with an old prescription,” I explained. “She doesn’t recognize anyone.”

  “I can’t do this,” Stella huffed, crossing her arms and beginning to pace. “I’m done. I don’t have any problem with wearing makeup. I love it.”

  “And that’s great,” I said. “But remember the meeting, when some of the other girls who don’t love it talked about feeling pressured to wear it? That’s why Natural Day was voted on as one of the themes of the week. It’s only one day. And it doesn’t work if only some of us participate. We have to go all in. You said that, remember?”

  Stella raked her hands through her tight red curls. “I know. I know you’re right. But I look really different than I normally do. I don’t want to be the person who’s the most shocking. It’s not that bad for you guys. Cee just tossed a pair of glasses on. And Riley’s just dressing bad, which honestly isn’t that unusual for her.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “I’m not going to make it through the day,” she said.

  “You will,” I insisted. “You’ll survive. And we’ll have made our point. That we have to spend all this time transforming ourselves every day because of what society or the media dictates—”

  My speech was interrupted as the door flew open.

  Stella opened her mouth to yell at the restroom intruder, but then she quickly snapped it closed. We all stood in our spots, silently staring.

  Camille cocked her hip to the side and put one hand on it. “What are you staring at?”

  Stella and I shared a look. We tried to share one with Cee, but she was leaning forward, squinting, in an attempt to figure out who’d joined us in the bathroom.

  We were staring because Camille’s trademark long, straight hair was the approximate size of Texas. It was as if someone with big hair got electrocuted and then went for a run on a day with 100 percent humidity. It was the biggest hair I’d ever seen. A photo of it belonged in the Guinness Book of World Records.

  I realized that no one was answering, so I gently said, “Um, I didn’t know you had curly hair.”

  “Or that much of it,” Stella added.

  Camille reached up and patted it, her hand momentarily disappearing and reappearing in the mass. “Isn’t it gorgeous? The best part is that it’s a choice. I can straighten it like I usually do or wea
r it big and curly like this. Lots of girls with straight hair could never do this. They’re stuck with one style.”

  She flipped her hair around, grinning from ear to ear. And it did look awesome. At first it had been shocking because I’d never seen her wear it that way before. But the way she held herself and the way she flaunted it, Camille rocked that hair.

  Stella, on the other hand, was feeling a different way. I could tell from the little smile on her face that she was pleased that she no longer had the biggest transformation. She turned to me. “Let’s get to class. I’m not feeling all that self-conscious anymore.”

  * * *

  Natural Day was progressing well for the most part, though Brody spent his morning shooting out insults like a T-shirt cannon at halftime. We gave him so much material to work with, he probably felt like he’d won the lottery. But I could tell that a few of his minions were tiring of their job. And one even gave me a secret thumbs-up behind Brody’s back.

  I chatted with Cole briefly in the hall, and he didn’t even mention that my complexion was like a zombie’s. So either he didn’t notice, or he was too polite to ask. Either way, he got points. The person who didn’t get points was my best friend.

  First she gave me a weird look in math class. Then at lunch, she snapped, “Are we going to talk about this mess?”

  “What?” I said through a mouthful of pizza.

  She looked at me as if I’d grown a second head. “You look like a slob, and it’s the day of my party!”

  Oh, that. Of course she only cared about her little get-together. I let out an exaggerated sigh. “It will take me two seconds to put some lip gloss on.”

  “And change your outfit to something super cute,” she added.

  “Would you like to come over and pick out my clothes, boss?” I snapped.

  Ava’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. I didn’t usually talk back at her when she was in one of her bossy moods. I just ignored it or tried to put her in a better mood. But despite how much she thought the world revolved around this party, I had other things on my plate. Literally, like this slice of pizza that was about to bring me joy.

  “What’s up with you?” she asked.

  “You could be a little bit interested in the Red Club movement,” I reminded her.

  She gasped. “I participated in the Tampon Challenge yesterday!”

  “Only for the second half after everyone else was doing it. And you’re not doing anything today.”

  She pointed at her face. “I can’t do Natural Day. I never wear makeup anyway, and my hair is always up in a ponytail.”

  She had a point there, but I was still mad. “You could ask me how it’s going. You could offer to do more. You were the one who was so upset last week when you got your period and the Red Club didn’t exist to help you.”

  Ava chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled a bit. “I’m just so nervous about the party today.”

  “There’s no reason to be nervous,” I said, my anger starting to fade. “Everything will be fine.”

  She smiled. “And everything will be fine with your protest. Especially after the big day, Friday. They’ll have to listen to your side.”

  “You’ll do it too, right?” I asked her.

  “On Friday? Of course! That’s the most important day.”

  I took a big bite of my pizza, feeling better. Ava did care. She just sometimes forgot to show it.

  “Do you want me to tell you all about the girls who are coming today, so you know what to expect?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said through a mouthful. “Though I really hope I’m not expected to do any flips.”

  Ava giggled. “Just be your cool self. No flips involved.”

  CHAPTER 21

  THE RED CLUB GIRLS WERE all going for ice cream at Dairy Queen before it closed for the season. That sounded much more appealing than hanging with girls I didn’t know and listening to them talk about flips and stuff. But Ava needed me. And sometimes you had to do the right thing even if it wasn’t your first choice. This was why I found myself walking across our front yards and up to her door for the party with her gymnastics squad instead of enjoying an Oreo Blizzard from DQ.

  Lately, it felt weird to have this whole life separate from my best friend. It had been different when we were little. Living next door to Ava and without homework, clubs, and sports taking up our time, we were together constantly. We spent hours listening to music in her room and dancing. We’d gorge ourselves on candy while flipping through magazines, and talk and laugh until one of our parents told us to be quiet, which never worked.

  People used to say we were “attached at the hip.” But as soon as she started gymnastics, things started to change. And I knew we didn’t have the same kind of connection now as we’d had before. I could feel it. But I didn’t want to lose her completely. And I wanted to prove to her that I was a good friend and cared about what she cared about, even if I wasn’t feeling the same thing from her.

  As soon as the door swung open, Ava screeched and threw her arms around me like we hadn’t seen in each other in weeks instead of hours.

  “So glad you could come!” she gushed. “You look super cute. I love that top.”

  It was a top she’d bought me for my last birthday, so I’d figured it was a sure bet. But she was being so weirdly enthusiastic, it was kind of freaking me out.

  She took my arm and led me into the living room, where three girls were spread out across the sectional.

  “Guys, this is my best friend, Riley,” she announced. “Riles, this is Maylee, Maliyah, and Madilynn.”

  Riles? Who was Riles? She’d never called me that a day in my life. And Maylee, Maliyah, and Madilynn… really? How was I supposed to remember who was who?

  The three Ms all muttered some version of “hey,” but they seemed super unimpressed. They were all tiny, like Ava, and wore their hair up in short ponytails. They had identical glitter eyeshadow on, and one pulled Ava back down onto the couch and reached toward her with an applicator brush.

  “We can do your eyes next,” one of the Ms said to me.

  I shook my head. “That’s okay. I’m good.”

  Ava shot me a look that I figured was disappointment in my noncompliance. But I really had no interest in a communal glitter wand going anywhere near my eyeball.

  I settled onto the nearest couch cushion. Awkward small talk came next, and I learned a little more about the girls. One was in seventh grade in the town next door. The other two were eighth graders at a local private school.

  As the conversation steered toward gymnastics, I mostly kept quiet and observed. The three Ms seemed pretty tight-knit. Ava kept trying to insert herself into the conversation, but they often interrupted or spoke over her. I didn’t know why she wanted so badly to impress these girls who didn’t treat her all that great.

  Mrs. Clement came around the corner carrying a silver tray full of cupcakes. The girls descended upon the treats as soon as she set the tray down on the table.

  “Cheat day!” one screamed.

  I plucked out a yellow cupcake with purple frosting, removed the liner, and took a bite. Mrs. Clement’s cupcakes were always awesome. As were her cookies and basically anything else she made.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Clement,” I said through a mouthful.

  She gave me a sad smile, like she felt guilty that I had to be there or something. “You’re welcome, Riley.”

  One of the three musketeers cracked open a soda can and asked, “So what do you do?”

  After a long awkward moment, I realized she was talking to me. I wiped a dab of frosting off my upper lip. “What do you mean?”

  “Like a sport or something?” another M clarified.

  Ava rearranged herself in between me and the Ms. “Riley is our school’s top investigative reporter.”

  “So, you write for the school paper,” an M said, her eyes glossing over with boredom.

  “She writes the most scanda
lous articles, you guys,” Ava said, before I could get a word in about myself. “She gets in trouble all the time. Called into the principal’s office and all that.”

  The bored M sat up a little straighter. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Ava nodded quickly. “She pushed the limits so far that they shut the whole paper down two weeks ago.”

  “Whoa,” all three Ms said in unison.

  That wasn’t exactly true. But, I mean, Pickford was mad at me, and he had taken control of the paper, and he had put our publishing schedule on hold for a while. So, close enough?

  Ava looked at me with an encouraging smile. She was pleased that the girls were interested. Might as well continue the tales of Riley.

  I wiped the cupcake crumbs off my hands. “They also shut down my club because it was too inappropriate.”

  Six glittered eyes widened. “What kind of club?”

  “It’s called the Red Club. It’s a period support group, but really, it’s more than that. It’s kind of like a sisterhood. And they took it away from us.” I didn’t even have to force the bitterness that tinged my voice.

  Reaching for another cupcake, the closest M said, “You have to do something! You have to fight back!”

  I grinned devilishly. “Oh, we are.” And then I regaled them with tales of Tampon Day, Natural Day, and what we had planned for tomorrow.

  The three Ms were a captive audience, asking questions now and then but mostly listening. They even high-fived me when I revealed our plans for Friday. Ava had sunk back into the couch cushions, not talking much, but I figured she had to be pleased with the turn her gathering had taken. The girls were happy and impressed. That was what she wanted, right?

  “You should come to our next comp,” an M said to me as she made her way to the door. The other Ms agreed. “Yeah, we want to hear everything about this week and how it went!”

  “I’ll definitely try to come,” I promised. “Ava will get me the date and time.”

  “It was great to meet you!” they squealed, and offered up hugs before they ran down the driveway to their waiting cars.

  Ava followed them outside, waving good-bye. I picked up some of the napkins and cupcake liners that littered the couch and floor since the other girls couldn’t be bothered, I guess.